


Keeping It Together

by writerofthingsxx00



Category: Rocket Power (TV), nickelodeon - Fandom
Genre: F/M, Graphic Language, Incest, Rocket Power - Freeform, Romance, Smut, Swearing, brosis, nickelodeon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-02
Updated: 2020-05-02
Packaged: 2021-03-02 00:55:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,128
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23956453
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/writerofthingsxx00/pseuds/writerofthingsxx00
Summary: Otto Rocket does the same thing he always does – namely, he ignores the sound advice of the people around him – and gets severely injured as a result. Reggie puts off her first year of college to stay home and take care of him. Reggie/Otto.
Relationships: Reggie Rocket/Otto Rocket, Reggie/Otto
Comments: 1
Kudos: 3





	Keeping It Together

A/N: This is a weird story, and I wish someone else would write it so I could read it. Alas, if you don't see the book you want on the shelf, you've got to write it yourself.

 **Warning** : This story contains explicit incest. However, I think if you set aside any reservations you might have about that, it's still an enjoyable work of fiction, especially if you miss those crazy Rocket kids.

 **Summary** : Otto does the same thing he always does – namely, he ignores the sound advice of the people around him – and gets severely injured as a result. Reggie puts off her first year of college to stay home and take care of him.

* * *

There were only so many times she could say "I told you so" and still get some sense of satisfaction out of it. One day, Reggie knew, Otto's luck would finally run out, and that devil-may-care attitude of his would really get him hurt. Somehow, though, she always imagined that moment was far off – a distant, unfocused worry for another day. She never imagined she'd be sitting in her bedroom, eighteen years old and with half her shit packed up in boxes around her, when she got the call.

"Reg – "

It was Twister. His voice was shaking.

Reggie sat up straight in her chair, cell phone tight in her hand. "What is it?"

"Shit, Reggie. It's Otto, he's – we were on the mountain, biking, you know, and there was this jump – "

Icy dread filled Reggie's heart. "Twister, what the hell are you talking about?"

There was a muffled altercation on the other end of the phone, and then Sam's voice picked up, shockingly firm and calm. "Reggie, get to the North Shore Hospital on Howard Boulevard, now. Otto crashed his dirt bike, and he's in ICU."

"I'm on my way." Reggie leaped from her seat, grabbed her keys, and flew out of the house to her bright yellow Jeep. "Where's Dad?" she asked, and Sam exhaled on the other end of the phone.

"We already called him, he's on his way. Reggie – "

She froze, hand tight on the door of her Jeep.

"Reggie, it's bad."

Her mouth went dry. Fuck.

The drive to the hospital was a blur. By the time Reggie arrived, Ray and Tito were already there. Tito stayed behind with Twister, who was inconsolable, and Sam, who was paralyzed in his chair, while Ray found the emergency room doctors.

Reggie stood in the middle of the hospital's sterile corridor, knees locked, as she heard words like "shattered pelvis," "punctured lung," and "not awake yet."

"He could have additional head trauma, but it's too early to tell," murmured the doctor to Ray, who trembled like a small child before he spotted Reggie and instantly stilled, assuming a much more confident posture.

Reggie stumbled to a cold plastic chair and sank into it. When Twister and Sam finally came to her, they all three cried together. Hours of surgeries - god, did they have to start from scratch? - left them sitting in the hallway without a bite to eat, each of them unwilling to move too far away. Eventually, Ray made Reggie go home to rest and get him some clothes.

It took three surgeries and time, so much time. It was four days before Reggie could even lay eyes on Otto, and when she did, she immediately fled the room and vomited. Not necessarily because the sight of him was so grotesque - he hadn't been disfigured by the accident, really - but because the image of his motionless body, limp and twisted, finally injected the reality of the situation into her veins.

For a week, Otto wavered between life and death, barely hanging on. Ray and Reggie slept at the hospital. Tito, Sam, and Twister stayed nearly every day. Each time they arrived, it was to hear the same words: "Nothing yet."

Then, one day, Otto's eyes opened.

When Reggie and Ray looked up, eyes wide and hearts heavy with fear, Otto stirred in his bed. Shifting, he turned his head weakly to look at them, and in that moment, he appeared very small. There was a long, tense pause, in which nothing was said. Reggie gripped her chair so hard, she thought she might break it.

"Dad?" Otto murmured, and then his eyes moved to Reggie and locked onto her face. His lips quirked. "Reg?"

A bubble of emotion burst in the room, and both Reggie and Ray rushed forward, collapsing next to Otto's bed. When he shoo'ed them away with a weak wave of his cast-covered hand, telling them to stop overreacting, Reggie knew he was okay. He was really, really, okay.

"Fuck, I hurt," Otto wheezed. "Jesus, stop crying..."

Ray laughed a little too loudly. "Okay, okay, big guy, give me a second, let me - hey, nurse! We need someone in here, please..."

Otto's bleary eyes shifted to Reggie, and his expression relaxed some. "Am I okay?"

"I think so," she whispered, her voice shaking. She curled her fingers in his. "God, Otto. You idiot. You fucking idiot, you almost died."

Otto inhaled. The sound had a rattling effect to it. "Not... getting rid of me... that easy." He paused. "Nerd," he added, smirking some and then wheezing.

Reggie grinned. The nurse hurried in, and slowly but surely, Otto learned the extent of his injuries.

Broken pelvis. Right leg shattered. Left ankle sprained. Apparently, he had tried to brace himself with his arms when he fell from the dirt bike and collided with a mountain, and both were broken and in casts. He'd punctured a lung, but it had been repaired. He was still having a little trouble breathing, so they gave him further scans.

Another grueling week in the hospital went by. Otto slowly gained strength, but as he became more aware, his understanding of the situation also developed. At first, he'd been a little rattled, and then he'd quickly regained his usual dismissive behavior. After a few conversations with the doctors, though, Otto's mood turned grim. It grew worse as time wore on and reality settled in. He was in near-constant pain, and this was going to take him months - maybe years - to bounce back from.

Finally, though, the hospital gave him permission to leave.

"He's going to need around the clock care for the next couple of months," the doctor told Ray and Reggie on the final day. "He won't be able to get out of bed by himself, and he'll need to start physical therapy very soon if he hopes to make a full recovery."

"We'll handle it," Ray promised, shaking the man's hand. "Thank you."

Reggie did the same, and then she wandered the hospital corridor with her dad. "How are we gonna do this?" she asked, brows knitted. "Someone's gonna have to be home with him all the time."

Ray sighed. "I'll just have to take time off from the shack, let Tito take the reigns."

"It's about to be tourist season, Dad." Reggie shifted to face him. "Tito can't handle all that on his own."

"So, we'll have to hire someone."

"To help out with the busiest time of the year? You guys get slammed every season, and you actually know what you're doing. You bring in some newbie, they're gonna kill the business – "

"Just let me worry about that, princess." He put an arm around her affectionately. "The only thing that matters is that Otto's safe and recovering. The Shack can slow down for one year. We won't end up in the poor house. And besides, you've got your own stuff to worry about. Move in day is only two weeks away, right?"

Reggie lowered her eyes. "Dad, I …"

"Hey." Ray reached up and curled a large hand over her lavender dreadlocks, which ran the length of her back. Otto's hair had long ago returned to its natural color of dark brown, but Reggie had continued to dye hers. She hadn't gotten around to it in a while, though, so what had been vibrant purple locks had faded to lavender in the last few weeks. "You've got a college to get to. This was an unexpected crisis, and we're gonna continue to handle it, but I don't want you getting distracted. The hard part is over. You did exactly what you needed to do."

Reggie nodded and managed a small smile.

So, they brought Otto home, and initially, things went okay. Otto was glad to be out of the hospital, and Ray managed to lug him up the stairs of their home to his bedroom, where they set him up in a cluster of blankets on his bed, with several items of amusement within arm's reach because he couldn't get out of bed. Ray drove him back and forth to his physical therapy, and Reggie continued getting ready to go to college.

To absolutely no one's surprise, Otto was a terrible patient. He was in near-constant pain, so his behavior was understandable, but Otto had never liked taking medicine, even when he was young, so he didn't often take pills he didn't have to. This meant he was in agony almost all the time, and Reggie saw him cry more in that first week at home than she had all their other years together.

After a week, things got heated both at home and at The Shack. Tito was overwhelmed, Ray was exhausted, and Otto was frustrated. Something had to give.

"Dad."

Reggie stood in the doorway of Ray's bedroom.

"Dad, I'm not going. I'm staying here, and I'm taking care of Otto, and you're going back to work."

"Absolutely not." Ray stood up, blinking against dry, weary eyes. "Reggie – "

"Dad, I can just start in December! It's not that big of a deal, plenty of people do it – "

"You put off starting college, you may never get going – "

"Dad." Reggie put her hands on her hips. "Come on, it's me you're talking to. I've been planning my freshman schedule since I was nine. I'll take some online classes if you want, just - let me freaking help! Come on, I can't just leave here when everything is going to hell!"

"I'm handling things just fine," barked Ray, and Reggie cocked a brow at him.

"Really?" she asked, tilting her head. "When was the last time you did laundry?"

Ray hesitated.

"Do we have any eggs?"

"Uh – "

"When ya' gonna mow the grass?"

Ray scowled.

"Yeah, see, nothing else is getting done because Otto's being a spoiled little crybaby and he needs to be watched all the time. Come on, man. There's only one of you, and you've got a family to keep and a business to run." Reggie walked up to Ray and touched his arm. "You're doing an awesome job, Dad, but you've only got so much time," she finished softly.

Ray deflated. "I don't want you to put off school, Reg… "

"It's one semester. I can defer my enrollment no problem. I already checked."

At last, Ray gave in. And so began the strangest period of Reggie's life.

First things first – Reggie Rocket made a schedule.

"Morning," she said, coming into Otto's room around nine am the next morning. Otto was sprawled on his bed, looking both comical and pathetic with his bent limbs and awkward positioning. He had trouble sleeping with all the bandaging and casts. It was pitiful, but Otto's snarky attitude made it difficult to feel sorry for him.

Like – really, _really_ difficult. As grateful as Reggie was to have him alive and at home, he'd been nothing but a belligerent pain in the ass since the moment he'd gotten out of the hospital.

"What're you doing in here?" Otto grunted. "Where's Dad?"

"He went back to work. I'm going to be taking care of you."

"Great," muttered Otto, shifting in his bed and wincing. He was shirtless, as he'd been pretty much since he arrived home, thanks in part to heavy bandaging around his torso. Each time he moved even a little, he gasped and grunted in pain. He also couldn't really use his arms to brace himself because they were injured, too, so his mobility was pretty limited. Each time he shifted, his face grew red and heated. He had sweated into his bedsheets all night, and now they were clammy and reeked.

"You have a problem with that?" asked Reggie, setting his breakfast next to the bed and opening his medicine, which she lined up next to the orange juice.

"Just that I gotta' hear you bitching all the time."

"I have not even bitched about a single thing today," snapped Reggie. "Just because you're in pain doesn't mean you need to be an ass."

Otto glared at her and tossed back his medicine, taking the whole glass of orange juice with it.

"Yeah, I'd like to see you deal with all this bullshit, being locked up in fifty different casts," he growled, and Reggie shook her head.

"Yeah, well, the reason I'm not is because I actually listen when people tell me I won't make a jump." Reggie cocked her head at him, and Otto's expression turned furious. _Damnit_ , thought Reggie. Why had she said that?

"Oh, yeah, go and throw that in my face!"

"Okay, I'm sorry, that was shitty - "

"Get out. Just get the hell out of my room."

Reggie sighed and fought for patience. "Do you need anything else?"

Otto let his head fall back against the backboard of his bed. "A new fucking body."

"Don't be dramatic. It's not that bad."

Otto's eyes shifted to her and narrowed. Reggie couldn't help but feel a little startled by the depth of his glare.

"Are you deaf? I said _get out_."

Reggie tossed up her arms. "Fine!"

And so it went on – day after day after day.

"When is Dad coming back?"

"I don't know, Otto. It's tourist season, you know how that gets."

"My back hurts."

"You can't take any more medicine."

"I don't want any more medicine."

"Then what do you want me to do about it, Otto?"

It was an endless echo of complaining, groaning, and insults. Eventually, Otto settled down a little, and he spent a great deal of time watching tv. At first, watching sports seemed to help him. It was distracting, and even though he'd never been one much for television, he liked watching the competitions. Soon enough, though, he grew antsy. The weather outside was brilliant, sunny and breezy and - man, perfect for the beach.

But neither of them could go, and it seemed to drive both of them crazier with each passing day. To make matters worse, physical therapy was slow-going and painful. Otto's mood was always worse after, and sometimes Reggie would watch him worriedly from the driver's side of her Jeep, afraid he was going to pitch himself out of the open door. She thought once he was holding his breath the whole way home. Once they finally got there, she realized he'd just been holding in tears. As soon as she left him alone in his room, he'd started crying; she could hear it through the walls, and she immediately rushed back in, but Otto had thrown his lamp at her.

"I don't know what you want me to do, Otto!" exclaimed Reggie tearfully one day. "Shit, I can't make you get better faster!"

"I AM SO FUCKING SICK OF THIS!" Otto shouted – not at her, actually, but at the ceiling, frustration making his voice grow thin and crack. "FUCK!" He fisted his hands in front of him as much as he could manage with the casts, which looped over his palm and separated his thumb from the rest of his fingers. He and Reggie resolved nothing that day. The cycle of pain, stilted progress, and dreary isolation continued.

Eventually, Otto stopped asking for pain medicine. He wouldn't even take it when it was offered. "No," he growled out between clenched teeth. "If all it's doing is masking the pain, I don't want it. I want to be _better_."

"It doesn't work like that, Otto." Reggie sank down to the edge of his bed. "Dude, come on."

Otto clenched his eyes closed, and to Reggie's shock, his whole body shuddered and he curled over his lap limply. "I'm fucked," he murmured tearfully. It was a beautiful, bright day in sunny California, and Otto Rocket was sobbing. "I'm never going to be like I was, I've ruined it – "

Reggie's throat closed up. "Otto, stop…"

"I'll never go pro now – "

He was talking about surfing. He'd been on the cusp of joining the World Surf League just before all this happened.

"Yes, you will! Otto, come on - please, just... " Reggie took the heavy cast over his hand and tugged it away from his face. "You will get better, it's just going to take some time…"

Otto sniffled, turning his head in her direction. "I won't. I can feel it. I'll never surf the same again."

Reggie felt her stomach lurch at the misery etched into his features. He looked so tired, so thin. He'd lost weight since coming home, and he'd never had any extra to begin with. A terrible fear leaked into her subconscious - what if Otto grieved himself into an even weaker state? What if his recovery was slowed - or even reversed - by the awful depression that had seized him? He didn't even want to try anymore. He hurt too much, and the fear of never getting better had left him unwilling to move on.

"It's going to take a while," she admitted quietly, "but you'll get there…"

Otto shook his head. "Just leave me alone," he whispered. "Please."

* * *

One week bled into the next. Otto's depression manifested again as churlish, antagonistic behavior composed entirely of insults and complaints.

"Otto, you were a total asshole to the physical therapist today," Reggie informed him.

Otto grunted as she helped him back into his bed, and then he yanked his arm away from her, throwing himself off balance. "So, what? Just leave me alone."

Reggie stared at him. This was beyond anything Otto had ever done before. Injuries aside, she had never, ever known him to just give up. Physical endurance was his _thing_. He had always managed to overcome obstacles before. What was so different about this? Reggie swallowed and forced herself to stand up straight. Maybe he just needed a kick in the ass. A reminder that he was Otto freaking Rocket. 

"Damn it, Otto! I am so sick of this defeatist attitude of yours! Stop acting like a little baby and just do the therapy so you can get better like we _all_ want!"

"Fuck off!" Otto exclaimed heatedly. "God, why haven't you left for college yet?"

Reggie's jaw dropped. "Are you serious? I put off college for an entire semester to stay here and take care of YOU, you dick!"

Otto stared. "What, really?"

Reggie clenched her hands. "How could you not _know_ that? Did you not even remember that I was supposed to leave a whole month ago?"

"Well, damn – I'm sorry!" Otto scowled. "I don't even – know what freaking day it is, when I just sit here all the time, not going outside or doing anything! I didn't realize you were supposed to leave already!" He huffed, before going on arrogantly, "And stop acting like I owe you something just because you stuck around. I didn't ask you to."

A thousand curses flew through Reggie's mind. She also briefly entertained the idea of smothering him with a pillow. _I have no idea what happened, officer, he just flew straight out of the window._ At last, she pointed a shaky finger at him.

"You – Otto Rocket – are a total and complete piece of shit."

Otto looked up in surprise.

"You are so fucking selfish," raged Reggie, leaning over his bed with such a forceful glare that Otto shrank back against his pillows. "You never listen to anyone, you never learn from your mistakes, you never do anything for anyone besides yourself, which is EXACTLY how you ended up in this fucking situation! So guess what, Otto? I'm not going to say you deserve this, because I would NEVER want you in this much pain, but I will say this is a lesson you could definitely use. You needed to be reminded of your own mortality, and you needed to learn the value of the people around you, because you have never once given any of them the credit they deserve!"

Otto stared, mouth agape. Flustered, he shifted and said angrily, "What the hell, Reggie! I nearly died!"

"Yeah, I was there!" snapped Reggie, her voice trembling. A sob welled in her throat. "I was there, Otto, and I spent a whole fucking week thinking you were gone forever and I was never going to see you again! I thought we'd lost you! All because you made a STUPID mistake that you shouldn't have!"

Otto frowned deeply. "Well, if you hate me so much, I wouldn't think you'd be so worried."

"Oh, god, Otto," groaned Reggie. "You know damn well I don't hate you! Never even for a second. I love you more than _anything_. You're - you're my freaking brother and one of my best friends." She swiped furiously at the tears falling down her cheeks. "But that doesn't mean you're not a total asshole sometimes."

They stared at each other for a few seconds of stillness, and Reggie shook her head, letting some of the rage leave her.

"Otto, god, I mean – Shit, I thought you were really gone. And not because you got sick or someone hurt you, but because you saw a freaking hill that you KNEW you shouldn't jump, and you ignored all the people around you and did it anyway. You're right, you nearly died, and it's because you were so arrogant, so selfish, so hellbent on being the best that you risked your life and almost left - " she paused, choking some. Her next words were small. "- almost... left me behind."

Otto shifted his eyes away.

"I mean – " Reggie took in a deep breath, and tears clouded her eyes. "We didn't know - if you would ever... wake up. And then you did, and you looked right at me, and you said... you said my name, and I just -"

Inhaling heavily, Reggie sank into a chair next to his bed.

"We thought we lost you, Otto," she murmured. "I mean, come on..." She shrugged and looked down at her hands. "How would you feel if it had been me dying in an emergency room, and all you could do was sit by and cry?"

Otto fell quiet, and he studied the tips of his fingers where they were visible at the end of his cast. He chewed on his lip as he kept his placid expression on his hands. "I just.." he cleared his throat. "...I hurt. So much."

"I know."

"And I'm worried."

"Yeah."

"And I don't like being inside."

"I got that."

Otto sighed. "I guess none of that is really your fault." He scratched at his dreads. Someone had told Otto and Reggie once they were disrespectful for having dreadlocks because they were white, and apparently white people shouldn't have dreadlocks. Otto had promptly told the guy that a) they were actually Polynesian and b) he could could go die in a shark on fire. 

After a few seconds, Reggie moved to the edge of the bed and loosely moved an arm around Otto's shoulders.

"Just let us take care of you the best we can, and soon enough, I'll be at school, and Ray'll be doing his thing, and you'll be surfing around the world, alright?"

Otto nodded slowly. "Okay," he murmured, leaning into her a little.

They fell quiet for a while.

"I had a nightmare like that once."

Reggie looked up in surprise. Otto wasn't look at her. This time, he was using his fingertips to trace a line along his leg cast.

"A nightmare like what?"

"You dying." Otto shifted some, looking a little uncomfortable. "I was like – I don't know, twelve or thirteen. And I had this dream that one day I was at school, and Raymundo came and got me and said – Reggie died. Like, he kept just saying it. And it was one of those really bad nightmares because everything seemed normal, and there was nothing out of place. So, it wasn't easy to tell it wasn't real." He frowned deeply. "And it went on forever. I kept waiting for something else to happen, but it didn't. All Ray kept saying was – Reggie died, Reggie died."

Otto looked up at her uncertainly. "I was so upset that when I finally woke up, I threw up all over my bed."

Reggie shifted to look at him. "Wow, dude. You never told me that before."

"Yeah, well. I mean, it was just a bad dream." Otto shrugged, dark eyes flickering over her face. "But I remember being so scared, I went to your room to check on you." He smiled a little. "You were fine, ya know. Obviously. Just sleeping in your bed with that dumb stuffed cat you used to have."

Reggie grinned a little. "Man, I'd totally forgotten about that thing. Mr. Whiskers. Wonder what happened to him."

"I threw it over the fence in the backyard and the neighbor's dog ate it," admitted Otto shamelessly.

Reggie's jaw dropped. "What the hell, Otto! How could you do that to Mr. Whiskers?"

"Jesus, that was like six years ago!"

"That was my favorite toy! Gran-Gran gave me that!"

"Oh my god." Otto rolled his eyes grandly. The sentiment from earlier evaporated, and they were back to Otto and Reggie Rocket once more. "Get over it, it was just a toy."

"You are a jackass."

Otto shrugged but didn't disagree with her. Reggie made a face at him and popped up, moving around the room to gather up the medicine bottles and trash. Before she made it to the door, Otto called her name.

"Hey, uh…" He bit his lip. "Thanks for staying with me." He looked uncomfortable. "I'm sorry you had to put off college."

Reggie relaxed some and smiled. "It's cool. College'll be there next semester."

Otto nodded in a kind of stunted way, and he didn't say anything more.

* * *

After that day, Otto's behavior got a little easier to deal with, and Reggie could tell he was making a real effort. The progress with his condition was slow-going, though, and their dad was normally only around on Sundays, which became the only day of the week Otto made it downstairs to have dinner at the family table. It was a rough schedule for all of them, but they pushed through it. Reggie did her best to keep up with the house and Otto at the same time, which wasn't always easy, because even when he wasn't whining or complaining, he often needed actual help. Even with all his injuries, he pretty much refused to stay put in his bed.

Some days, he felt okay, and the pain was more like an echo than anything. Other days, though, he writhed and twisted in his bed, tears pouring down his face. This was usually after physical therapy, and it was the days Reggie struggled the most, because there was nothing she could do to make him feel better.

He was still losing weight, too. Otto had always been on the thin side – fit, of course, but still quite slim – and now he was lying in bed all day, barely eating and losing a great deal of muscle. His color, too, had faded; he'd always been rather dark, like Reggie (both of whom were far darker than Ray), but he seemed to grow paler by the day. It made him look sickly and weak, and Reggie secretly worried a lot more than she let on.

It was a rainy Thursday afternoon when Otto said, tears running down the side of his face, that he wished he'd never woken up at the hospital.

"Otto!" exclaimed Reggie, eyes wide. "What the hell, don't say that!"

"It's true," he murmured, swallowing thickly. "God, I wish that crash had just killed me. Anything's gotta be better than this."

"Stop!" Reggie moved to his side at the bed. "Damn, Otto, just – here, let me get you some more medicine – "

"No."

"Please, Otto – "

He sniffled and shook his head. "No," he whispered tearfully. "I don't want any more medicine. I'm sick of it."

Reggie dropped her arms and closed her eyes. "What can I do, Otto?" Rain continued to pour outside. A flash of lightning was followed by a low rumbling roll of thunder. Otto inhaled deeply, shifting his good leg anxiously on top of the bed covers. It was his only decent limb.

"I don't know," he murmured miserably. "Nothing."

Reggie sat at the edge of his bed. The binding on his torso had been removed, at least. He was covered in new little scars, and Reggie looked over them where they dotted his rib cage. She placed a hand on his bare stomach. "Okay, so… Where are you hurting? Maybe I can rub it. Is it your shoulders, or your back?"

Otto kept his teary eyes on the ceiling. "It's everywhere."

Reggie sighed. "Okay, well… Here." She went to her room and got some peppermint lotion. She liked peppermint because it helped ease anxiety; perhaps it would do the same for Otto's frenzied mind, too. She put some on her hands. "Just relax," she murmured, taking one of his arms in her hand. This one had only a wrist cast on it now, so she gently massaged his upper-arm, squeezing his biceps and up over his shoulder.

Otto seemed a little resistant at first, and she knew this wasn't where he was really hurting, but the light squeezes and affectionate touch of skin to skin seemed to soothe him at last, and he relaxed some against the bed. He didn't say anything as Reggie put a little more lotion on her hand and continued to rub, reaching across him to do the same to his other arm. Occasionally, she ghosted her fingers along his ribs and gently massaged the tight skin there. Otto let out a breath, and his tense form became a little more slack.

Reggie smiled just a little, hoping to encourage him. "Is this… helping at all?"

Otto hesitated. "I guess," he murmured.

Reggie looked down at his good leg and reached for it, gently massaging his calf. She knew it was stiff from laying around unused all the time. She looked back up at Otto's face, and he at last met her gaze.

"Thanks," he whispered.

Reggie managed a half-smile. She kept rubbing absently for a little while, moving this way and that, until she noticed Otto shifting a little more often. She'd drifted into a daydream when he said her name gruffly.

"Reggie."

"What?" She looked up, and Otto let out a shaky breath. He looked frustrated and close to tears again.

"You can stop."

Reggie moved her hand away, frowning, and that was when she realized –

Oh. _Oh_. Otto's dick was hard.

Otto shifted, bringing up his good leg as he bit his lip and tried to make it a little less obvious, but his erection wasn't at all disguised by the pajama pants. Reggie put both hands in her lap. _Weird_ , she t hought with a slight bit of hysteria, but it wasn't, not really. Erections were totally normal, and he'd been stuck in the house for weeks on end. Of course his dick got hard sometimes.

"I'll just – " Reggie stood quickly, " – leave you alone, then." Best he handled that. But Otto, far from being relieved, let out a huff and didn't move his hard stare from the ceiling.

"To do what?" he asked flatly when she moved to leave.

Reggie raised a brow at him. "To do… whatever you need to do," she said, but even as the words came out of her mouth, she realized what he was so frustrated about.

Otto had casts on both of his hands.

Damn. He'd shred his dick into pieces trying to masturbate with those things wrapped around his palms. Reggie instantly felt worse than she'd had in weeks. Otto didn't say anything, instead just continuing to glare heatedly at the ceiling. Reggie hesitated awkwardly.

"Do you…" she cleared her throat. "Do you want me to maybe… call someone? Like – I don't know, a girl you know…?"

Otto scowled at the ceiling. "No," he bit out angrily. "I don't want anyone coming here and seeing me like this."

Reggie sighed. "Otto, come on, just let go of your pride for once – "

"I am not asking some girl to come here and give me a pity blowjob because I'm all fucked up," he snapped. He let his head fall back against the pillow again. "Just… leave me alone," he finished dejectedly. "It'll go away eventually."

Thunder rumbled outside of Otto's window, and rain continued to beat on the glass, rattling it in a consistent rhythm like a heartbeat.

The silence stretched on for what felt like an eternity – with Otto, in pain and in tears – and Reggie, standing there while he struggled, unsure whether she should just go and leave him alone like he wanted or to try to help. But what could she do? If he wouldn't let a girl come over (truth be told, she couldn't even think of any girls Otto was seeing that could help him out), what could she do?

Reggie looked at the clock. It was two in the afternoon. Ray wouldn't be home for hours.

As if that was the deciding factor, Reggie edged forward and cleared her throat. "Otto."

"What?" he asked dully, not looking at her.

"What if…" Reggie shifted on her feet. "What if I just … kept massaging you?"

Otto sighed and closed his eyes. "A massage is only going to make it worse."

Reggie took a careful seat on the edge of his bed, her heart racing even though she did her best to hide it. "I mean… Like, what if I … helped you?"

Otto opened his eyes, blinked three times at the ceiling, and then shifted his head to look at her. "Are you asking if I want you to give me a hand job?" he asked incredulously.

Reggie's spine straightened indignantly, as if she had not done exactly that. "Uh."

Otto stared at her, looking more emotive than he had in days.

"Well." Reggie floundered and waved both hands in a flurry of erratic, totally meaningless movements. "I mean, really, what's the difference between that and rubbing your back? I just – I'm so tired of seeing you upset and in pain, and I mean, really, I know it's weird, but it's also kinda not? You know? It's just a body part. And you can close your eyes and pretend like it's someone else, and I just – I don't want you to be miserable anymore!"

Otto stared at her. "And you think the solution to being miserable is a hand job from my sister?"

Reggie jumped up. "You know what, I wasn't – You totally blew this out of – forget it, Otto. Just be here and be a crabby jackass."

She hurried to the door.

"Reggie, wait!"

Reggie froze at the door. Slowly, she turned to face him, and Otto shifted, sitting up as much as he was able. He still had his good leg pulled up high to disguise the erection, but Reggie knew it was there. Otto's eyes jumped all around the room.

"I... I mean - "

The air between thick was thick with tense, awkward space.

"Would you - I mean, would you ... really do that?"

"Well..." Reggie folded her arms over her stomach. "Yeah, I mean. Like I said - it's just like any other body part. Right?"

There was a very long pause.

"I don't want you to do something you don't want to do," Otto murmured very quietly.

Reggie bit her lip. He was giving her an out. But honestly... what if this helped? Wouldn't it be worth it? It was just a freaking hand-job for crying out loud. They weren't actually having sex. It really was just a massage.

"I want to make you feel better. It's not going to bother me," she told him, sounding more confident than she felt. Otto averted his eyes, but then he gave her a strange, barely-there nod, and Reggie turned to the door, closing it with a deceptively calm movement. A moment later, she sat next to Otto's bed just like she had before. Otto refused to look at her, and instead, he kept his gaze on the ceiling.

Reggie took up the lotion again. "You can close your eyes."

Otto shut them silently.

After a few seconds of stillness, Reggie reached for Otto's waistband. He was wearing a striped tank top and a pair of blue pajama pants. His erection pressed hard against the soft fabric, standing up straight up before she even got his pants pulled down. When she tugged the material down to his knees, she realized he still had his black boxer briefs on. For whatever reason, she reached up to touch him through the briefs. The warmth of his cloth-covered penis in her hands was weirdly shocking, as if she didn't know what a dick felt like (which she certainly did).

As soon as she touched it, Otto tensed up. Reggie's eyes traveled to his face, and she was glad his eyes were closed. She gave him a little squeeze, rubbing along his shaft, and Otto actually exhaled this time.

 _I am touching my brother's dick_ , she thought very much against her own will. For a moment, she froze, her hand gripping him loosely.

Otto sucked in a breath, his eyes still clenched tightly shut. Suddenly, she remembered his expression of agony from before, and Reggie's resolve strengthened once more. She took in a deep breath. She could do this. She was going to make him feel better. 

So she gripped him again, curling her hand over his length and rubbing him just a bit through the fabric. Otto's hips twitched a little, and Reggie reached up, pulling down the boxer briefs at last and letting his penis come free.

 _Oh_ , thought Reggie faintly. God, he was hard as a rock. The fact that his sister was touching him had apparently done nothing to squash his arousal. Reggie put a little lotion in her hand, taking it away from him for a moment, and when she moved her hand back, she wasted no time.

Her hand closed around his cock, close to the base, and a muffled groan escaped Otto's parted lips. Her heart racing, Reggie pushed her hand up and down at a slow, steady pace, and Otto's heated skin pulsed beneath her hand. Otto's fingertips curled into the mattress, and Reggie fought with herself over whether or not she should say anything. Would that break the spell? Was Otto vividly imagining some girl he knew, desperately trying to forget who was actually pumping his cock with a firm, insistent hand?

Reggie blinked rapidly, looking away from Otto's face as it shifted into something like pleasure. One thing was very certain - the longer it went on, the more he was enjoying it.

Reggie shifted away and gave herself a little pep talk. She was no novice at this. She'd spent plenty of time with guys, and never once - to her knowledge - had she left any unsatisfied. It was something she took quite a bit of pride in. If she and Otto were going to cross this very weird line - and if she was really going to make him feel better - she was going to have to do her best.

So, filled with determination, Reggie shifted on the bed and turned her full attention to his cock, now shifting her grips and focusing on drawing her hand all the way up and down, over and over again. Her palm moved over the head of his dick, teasing touches at the top and then looping back down, gripping at his base and drawing out the pleasure the best ways she knew how. Without thinking about it, her other hand moved to his balls and gripped them. Otto's loud groan shook her to her core, but she reflected later that it wasn't disgust or even dismay. It was something like excitement. Finally, she felt like she was doing something to make him feel better.

There was something else, too, something she refused to examine. A heated pool in her stomach, one that she immediately labeled as adrenaline despite knowing damn well there was more to it than that. She squirmed a little in her spot, drawing her face nearer to Otto's cock as her hand sped up. She withdrew her hand from his balls, and Otto actually made a little whine in the back of his throat, so Reggie put her hand there again, squeezing and fondling as she pumped harder and faster.

Unconsciously, she parted her lips some, feeling breathless. She was now bent over him, focused intently on his cock. Otto's breathing was more rapid, and his hips jerked even though she knew it was probably causing him pain. She looked up to see the tight muscles of his abdomen flexing with the restraint it took to stay on the bed. His skin glistened with a thin sheen of sweat.

"Otto," she murmured very quietly, "you have to be still - "

"Fuck, I'm trying," he groaned, and Reggie shifted her gaze up to his face.

Otto's eyes were open, and he was staring straight at her. As soon as they made eye-contact, he jerked his head back, body spasming with orgasm. Reggie, who had never been shy about come, continued to work him all the way through the orgasm, hand moving rapidly up and down his cock until at last his body relaxed against the bed.

Otto wheezed a little, and Reggie slowly moved her hand away, wiping it off on a towel next to the bed.

They both remained totally silent. Reggie's eyes were wide as she cleaned her hand. The shock of what had happened settled over both of them at the same time. With trembling fingers, Otto reached down and tugged his pajama pants back up to cover himself. He refused to say a word or look in Reggie's direction.

After a solid thirty seconds of nothingness, Reggie shot up from her seat, left the room, and closed the door behind her.

On the other side, she leaned against the wood and exhaled.

 _Fuck_ , she thought.


End file.
